


He Sings While He Cooks

by tired_alexander



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Fluff, Happy, M/M, Modern Era, Racebert, ralbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tired_alexander/pseuds/tired_alexander
Summary: Albert comes home from a long day to a heartwarming sight.





	He Sings While He Cooks

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a drabble prompt given to me over on Tumblr: 
> 
> "H-How long have you been standing there?"  
> "Long enough."
> 
> Come chat with me @tired-alexander on Tumblr!

Race tended to sing while he cooked. It didn’t matter what he was cooking or baking, or for how long, but it was a force of habit. Race had distinct memories from when he was a kid of his mom singing while she worked her magic in the kitchen. She had been an opera singer before she and his father got married - he was a stage manager and she was the lead singer, and the rest was history. So Race, even though he never knew the translations of the songs he was singing, let alone their names, sang softly while he cooked in mostly Latin and Italian, sometimes German if he was full of energy that day (German vowels are the worst).

Tonight’s meal was homemade mac and cheese and meatloaf, some warm comfort food that Albert loved. He wanted to surprise him; Albert had been working long nights recently at the company he worked for, deadlines and all that needed to be met. He always came home tired and way too late, and tended to grab fast food instead of eating at home like he wanted.

It was 11:27 PM when Albert slipped through the door, careful to not let the door slam or step on that one squeaky floorboard a foot in front of the threshold.

_I can’t believe I came home late again…God, I hope Race will forgive me…_

He took off his shoes and coat, and was tiptoeing his way across the apartment on his way to their bedroom when he saw a light coming from the kitchen.

_Maybe he left a light on…?_

He walked towards the kitchen and sighed softly, a warm smile painting his face and love in his eyes at the sight in front of him.

Race was swaying back and forth in front of the stove in his bunny PJ pants and Albert’s Mickey Mouse shirt (which way were way too big on him, he was as skinny as a stick) while stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. There was something in the oven that smelled like meatloaf.

_Oh, he didn’t…_

Then Albert heard it. The quiet Italian-sounding phrases coming from Race while he added chopped onions and sharp cheddar to the pot of, what Albert assumed at this point was his favorite mac and cheese, were beautiful. Race would deny it until the day he died that he didn’t sing and that his voice was horrible, and everyone let him be when he wouldn’t budge on his opinion of himself. Albert, however, was one of the few people who saw this soft side of him. Race had a higher voice than most, and sang the long runs and crescendos under his breath in a way that made him seem like an angel sent from God. Albert blushed and made a content sound.

Race jumped and swiftly turned around, almost dropping the cheese-coated spoon in the process.

“Albert! H-how long have ya been standing there?” He blushed profusely and looked down, playing with the bottom of his shirt.

“Long enough. Honey, you didn’t have ta do this, ya know? It’s late, go ta bed.” He walked over to Race, grabbed the spoon from his hand and put it back in the pot. He pulled Race into a warm hug, putting his head on Race’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but ya needed some good food in ya, and I wanted ta surprise ya. Ya happy?”

“I really, really am. I love it when you sing, by the way.” Race blushed some more. “Sing some more for me?”

They stood in the kitchen in each other’s arms, swaying side to side while Race sang softly in his ear until the food was ready.

_I’m so glad to be home._


End file.
